


On the lack of thorns and Roses

by kondrakii



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forgive me for doing this, Iceberg sells ice, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kondraki does not deserve this, M/M, Manipulative Clef, the old timey england au that NOBODY asked for, they're my boys and I wrote this at 3 AM, this is really OOC so please let me live, writer and poet Gears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kondrakii/pseuds/kondrakii
Summary: The old England AU that nobody asked for is here!Charles Gears is a poet and playwright who lives in a busy and warm town by a lake. Julian is a simple Ice-monger who did not expect to fall in love quite so easily.This is a work in progress, so I ask for patience (and mercy) -- I will update tags as I go <3
Relationships: Dr. Alto Clef/Dr. Benjamin Kondraki, Dr. Gears/Dr. Iceberg (SCP Foundation)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 46





	1. A rose by any other Name

“My countenance so far has been cold, yet thine warmth shines through, melting away all insecurities that yield me so.” Charles murmured softly as he wrote, the gentle scratch of quill on paper dully resounding in the quiet of the room. The poet paused for a second, quill hovering above the paper, a splatter of ink falling to the parchment and staining it unforgivingly. 

This was not the first time he had become distracted from his work, as he called it. Distractions themselves had started happening more frequently, Charles noted, glancing up to the window and setting his quill down. ‘It must be a curse.’ Charles hummed to himself as he allowed for his thoughts to wander. ‘It must be a curse that is wrecking me so. The artful creation of the devil himself that seeks to tear my heart from my chest and fill it with love; love for another man. The priest would have me confessing for my sins if only he knew.’ Charles let out a soft sigh, standing from his writing chair and ambling over to the window, squinting through the sunlight.

Charles’ hands were placed on the stone ledge of the window, his steely-blue eyes gazing out over the crowd of people in the square. It was always bustling during this time of day, Charles reasoned. This was not, however, the reasoning behind his ever-so-frustrating lapses in attention. Charles’ eyes landed on a familiar blue-haired man, currently standing next to a soaked pallet filled with ever melting ice. 

The man, to Charles’ distaste, was wearing leather gloves and an apron, an outfit that made sense, given the man's position as an ice peddler. Charles was still confused on how the man made any profit, by selling ice to less than wealthy people. The poet had only ever seen ice be sold to the wealthy and rich of England’s finest nobles— but this man held the compassion to sell the frozen gold to anyone who offered him a gift in exchange. Whether it be flowers or gold pieces— apples or toads, the blue-haired man was always willing to give out a piece of his treasure. 

“Perhaps,” Charles murmured to himself, “this ice peddler is the reason behind my growing madness. Perhaps the devil, in all of his spite for humanity and man, has taken the form of a man and is now trying to sway me down a path of unholiness and sin.” Charles narrowed his cold gaze upon the man, who was currently smiling at the little girl and taking a flower from her open mitts. “Pah! This being is no fiend nor devil. The ice peddler is merely a man— a man gifted by the heavens with beauty.” Charles leaned down on his forearms as he spoke, admiring the blue hair that graced the man's head. 

“Thy own beauty shines bright, bluebird, and thy songs ensnare me, like a siren, into pure sin. I revel in every glance thou graces me with, bluebird of beauty, and I pray that one day, will release my heart from it’s painful shackles of love.” Charles lamented, letting his eyes slip shut as a soft breeze ruffled his hair and clothes. Charles opened up his eyes only to catch the ice peddlers blue gaze with his own. “Thy is sweet, like a rose, but lack the thorns that protect the sweet bloom from a greedy hand. And I, my love, will play the part of the hand in this play.” Charles knew that the ice peddler could not hear him, for the square was too loud. But perhaps, Charles pondered, he could reiterate the words for the ice peddler to better hear. 

Charles stepped away from the window, shutting the drapes and sitting back down at his desk, flipping to a new piece of parchment. The new play would wait— his lover’s sonnet was much more important to him than a silly old comedy. He had inspiration— and his rose did not seem like the kind of flower to last very long. Charles worked for hours, after that, only stopping for required breaks until nightfall. At nightfall, Charles slowly stood and moved out by his window, clearing his throat and catching the ice peddlers gaze. The man looked tired, certainly, but wore a weary smile at the sight of the poet. Charles felt his heartbeat quicken— his flower was quite divine in the light.

“Thy smile is enough to warmeth my heart, oh bluebird.” Charles began. “The way thy voice sings out amongst the bustling crowd, beckoning all to buy your wares of ice and sleet— it is enough to drive me mad from love.” Charles leaned against the window, his emotionless face aimed up to the sky now. “My dearest bluebird— you are but a rose; so sweet, and so tender, but you lack thorns to protect from a greedy hand. My dearest rose, you are my muse, and I wish undoubtedly to be the hand to pluck you and bring you home.” Charles gazed back down to the ice peddler, who was now leaning on his stack of empty pallets, a charming smile on his face.

“Aight’, my dearest poet, but is it not true that roses wither when plucked from their bush?” The ice peddler responded, and Charles had never felt so taken with someone in his life. Charles thought for a moment on how to best respond, but the ice peddler was quicker. “My dearest poet, I thank ye for the kind words you speak to me on this summer night. I am but a peddler, tied to the streets and frozen water of my life. I could not bear the pain of leaving it, my dear.” The ice peddler looked back down to his pallets, as Charles finally found his tongue in order to reply.

“Then I shall join you in the garden where you grow, my rose. I shall become as thou art now, a mere rose blooming in the succulent moonlight, awaiting the day where light will shine once more upon thee.” Charles sat down on his window ledge, his legs disturbing the ivy growing underneath his window and up the wall. “I will join thy in name and title, and become as thou art now, leaving myself as I once was.” Charles pledged, hand placed on his chest in ernest. “I would give up heart and soul to be with thee, my love, and I would kill armies for you. I would have my own stomach at your feet, if only you so wished it of me.” Charles remained impassive, as usual, and cursed his inability to emote as the ice peddler stepped forward, removing his cap. 

“Your tender words soothe me, dear poet, but there is no need for thee to ponder change. You have already won my fair heart over with thy gazes and gentle looks, dear poet. But I wonder, poet, what is to come of these emotions?” The ice peddler stepped forward once more, and Charles could make out the freckles dotting the man's cheeks. “Will you act on them, dear poet? Woo me and catch my heart even further in your trap? Will you lead me into your bedchambers, only to cast me aside? Or, I wonder, will you keep me beside you as a pet?” The ice peddler stepped back, padding over to his pallets. 

“Cast away the mere thought of it, bluebird!” Charles adjusted and was soon standing before his window, cheeks a light pink. “My dearest bluebird, I would care for thee. Perish and put to rest any thoughts of me abandoning or casting you aside! You are no mere toy to me, my darling rose.” Charles proclaimed, his soft tenor ringing out in the empty square. “Do not mistake my love for a mere interest, bluebird. Thou art beautiful, more so than the loveliest blooms in the queen’s garden.” Charles leaned down onto the ledge once more, locking eyes with the ice peddler. “I must, to my own heart, be true. I love thee, ice peddler. I love thee more than a nurse loves her morning tea. I love thee more than honeybees love nectar. My life would not be the same without thee singing over the crowds every morn, dear bluebird.” Charles felt all of his words leave his head when the ice peddler stepped forward, so he elected to shut his mouth.

“Oh, dear poet. Will you not come down? Your honey’d words would be much sweeter whispered into my mouth.” The ice peddler smiled, tilting his head, and Charles needed no more persuasion. The man practically flew down the stairs of his home, before tenderly opening the door and stepping into the square. Charles slowly approached the ice peddler, taking the cold hand into his own and bringing it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the cool skin. 

“No other rose is quite as sweet as thee, dearest bluebird.” Charles held the ice peddlers hand to his chest, the blue-haired man moving closer as they stood. Bringing his pale hand up to cup the ice peddlers cheek, Charles took the chance to admire the man's lips, before leaning in and stealing a soft kiss for his own. “Certainly, my rose, you are sweeter than any tea that has ever graced my lips. But, I must be thorough.” Charles murmured, and the ice peddler let out a soft laugh, leaning into the poet's touch as they kissed once more. “Sugar cannot hold a candle to your sweetness, my love. Not even the silkiest chocolate could compare to the loveliness of your kiss.” Charles admired his beloved's eyes before tenderly embracing his lover and kissing him for the third time that night. 

“My dear poet, you have stolen my first kiss, and I do not even know thy name.” The ice peddler lovingly ran his fingers through the poet’s black hair, leaning in and letting their foreheads touch.  
“My name is Charles, my love. But what is thy name that the angels graced you with, my love? Surely, a heavenly man should warrant a heavenly name.” Charles placed a gentle kiss on the ice peddlers forehead.

“My name is Julian, dearest poet.” Julian laughed softly at the kiss, his cold hands placed on the sides of Charles’ face. “Do you not think, my love, that we should be parting? The church will certainly disapprove, and my family awaits my return home.” Julian gazed into Charles' eyes, locked into the loving and wanting gaze— and he suddenly didn't want to return home all that badly. 

“Ah, Julian. A divine name, one heralded by angels wherever they may be.” Charles let his hands hold Julian’s hips protectively, holding the man close to him, not allowing an inch of space to come between the two. “If you need to return home, my love, then you may leave. You will always return, will you not? And every night, I will read you a sonnet, proclaiming my love so that you may never dare forget it.” Charles leaned down and let their foreheads touch once more, lips slightly touching, noses pressed together sweetly. “I loveth thee, Julian. Whenever you wish for me to hold you, or kiss you, or even make love to you— I will do so without question or delay.” Charles promised before capturing Julian into a searing kiss, pulling away after a few moments. 

“Charles, I pledge my love to thee. After this night, I am yours, and thou art mine. I wish for you to have me, and care for me, however you may please. But... I really must be going, my love. I will return on the morrow, as always." Julian gave a soft smile and one last kiss before fluttering off to his pallets and gloves, taking them up and walking off; Leaving Charles standing in the square with only his lingering rush of emotions for company.

And as Charles let out a sigh and meandered back into his home, he failed to notice the gleaming green eyes observing him from a distance, twinkling with mischievous curiosity, the golden rosary around the mans neck glinting in the moonlight. "This is going to be good." The man chuckled darkly and pulled down his cap, shielding his emerald gaze. "I can hardly wait."


	2. Repent for your sins, fellow sinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Julian's romance gets a little rocky as Kondraki intervenes-- but not by his own will.

“Father Clef.” Kondraki greeted quietly, kneeling down in front of the priest. “I have the information you have requested. As you suspected, Father, the Ice peddler and the poet are--” Kondraki was cut off by a hand on his chin, tilting his head up. 

“Oh Konnie, dear, must you speak so soon? You’ve only just arrived. Allow yourself a breath of respite, my child.” Alto watched as his emissary took a stuttered breath, before smiling softly down at the man. “There. Is that not better, Konnie dear? Now. Inform me of Charles and Julian.” Alto commanded, and Kondraki bowed his head once more, shying away from the priests gaze.

“They are in love,” Kondraki began. “They embraced and shared sweet nothings whispered between parted lips.” Kondraki paused, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Clef moved his hand to the back of Kondraki’s neck, caressing the skin lightly and letting his fingers card through Kondrakis black hair. 

“Well, Konnie dear? How did seeing them together make you feel?” Clef asked tenderly, tilting his emissary’s head up to meet his gaze. “Come now. Shame? Lust? Jealousy? Do not lie to the herald of the Lord, Konnie dear.” Kondraki bent his head once more in embarrassment. 

“I felt... Jealous.” Kondraki basked in Clef’s touch, trying not to lean into it. “I felt jealous, Father. I have never known that type of love rightfully, and yet those fools sin to find what they crave.” Kondraki clenched his fists, eyes shut tightly. “It’s not fair, Father.” Kondraki began to calm down as Clef began to run his fingers through his hair once more, tilting his head up and meeting Clef’s expectant gaze.

“Come now, my child. Do not feel shame in sin. It is but a lustful temptation, my child-- I will help you resist it.” Clef hummed, and Kondraki dimly realized that his priest had two different colored eyes. “Father--” Kondraki began, but Clef placed a thin finger to his lips, effectively shushing the man. 

“Konnie, dear, I am going to give you your next task.” Clef went down on his knees and moved Kondraki so the man was in his embrace. “Sinners must repent for their crimes, my child. You, my emissary, will kill that Ice peddler at night, when the moon is highest in the sky. And you, Konnie dear, will not fail me.” Clef simpered, his hand cupping Kondraki’s cheek. 

“Yes, Father Clef. Anything you wish of me.” Kondraki let his eyes slip shut as he relaxed into the man’s embrace, briefly wondering how the priest knew what made him melt. Kondraki felt hot lips brush over his neck and jumped, but Alto just held him even closer. “Oh, Konnie dear. This will only hurt a bit.” Clef grinned against Kondraki’s neck, before biting down harshly, fangs piercing into tender flesh. 

Kondraki cried out, but Clef moved quicker, covering the man's mouth with his hand, continuing his actions and agitating the wound more. Eventually Clef pulled away, lips coated in slick blood. Kondraki let out a soft sigh and looked up at the priest, dazed. “Dearest konnie,” Clef simpered, grinning down at the man. 

“The best part about this, Konnie, is that you won’t remember a thing when you wake up, will you? No, my love, you’ll just go back to calling me father. That word falling from your lips should be considered a sin, my dear.” Clef wiped away the blood with his clawed hands, licking off the liquid and swallowing it thickly. “My lovely Konnie. Always so eager to please. Once that foolish Ice peddler is killed, Konnie dear, I will show you how much you truly mean to me. Yes?” 

Kondraki could only nod, soon falling into a dreamless sleep in Clef’s arms, cuddling into the warmth radiating from the demon's chest. Clef bandaged up Kondraki’s neck, tenderly placing a kiss to Kondraki’s lips when he was finished. “My dear Kondraki. Sleep well, my rose.” 

Gears was currently working away at his desk, his window open so he could properly hear the voice of his darling bluebird calling out from the street. “Such a beautiful voice he has. My beautiful bluebird is surely the sweetest sounding.” Charles stood and padded over to his window, a light feeling immediately bubbling up in his chest when he caught sight of his darling bluebird. 

Julian looked up to the window and waved, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Charles waved back genially, before retreating back into his bedchambers and getting dressed. Charles grabbed a carving knife and slipped that into his pocket, before shuffling outside into the bustling square. 

Charles made his way over to the ice peddler, and tenderly took his hand, holding it. “Good morning, Julian. I sure hope that the day is treating you well?” Charles greeted, and Julian took Charles' hand in his own two. “Why yes, the day is treating me well, dear Charles. How do you fare, dearest poet?” Julian bantered back, and Charles let out a soft sigh. 

“I fare terribly, my darling Ice peddler. It seems that a beautiful bluebird, with a voice of gold, has locked my heart away in a cage-- one that I will never be free of. Thy must be careful, dear Ice monger. This bluebird could trap thee as well.” Charles hummed, a humorous glean in those steely eyes of his. 

Julian laughed brightly, shaking his hand and letting go of Charles’ hand. “Oh, dear poet, you flatter me. Have you come to buy my wares, dear poet? Or have thou arrived to distract me from my livelihood.” Julian covered his mouth with his hand as he smiled, and Charles tugged it away. 

“Do not cover up the most beautiful thing in the world, dear ice peddler.” Gears paused, looking down at the beautifully clear ice with a fond look. “Yes, I am here to purchase some of your wares, dear Ice peddler.” Charles spoke, before explaining how big he wanted the piece to be. After a few minutes, Charles had his hands full of ice, and was flicking open his carving knife.

Julian watched his love closely, but soon became distracted by the people demanding ice. Julian got to work as Charles carved, and they continued this for a few hours until nightfall. “Dear poet,” Julian began. “You’ve been sitting on those steps for hours as I worked. Whatever could you have been working on!” Julian walked over to Charles' side, but gasped as he saw the beautiful, glass-like carving of a rose, melting in Charles' hands.  
“Oh, Charles--” Julian murmured as his poet stood up, offering him the rose. Julian took the rose out of Charles’ hands and gazed down at it in wonder. “It… It is beautiful-- I have never seen such artwork in my life--” Julian looked back up to his poet, a soft smile on his face. 

“It is the least you deserve, my love.” Charles hummed, pulling Iceberg into his embrace, kissing his lover tenderly. “My beautiful bluebird-- my muse-- my love among all other loves.” Charles began his sonnet with a soft kiss of Julian’s cheek. “My darling thornless rose, I would offer anything to keep thee by my side. I will protect thee for the rest of my days, darling rose, And If anyone tries to do thee harm, I will ensure that they will regret it dearly.” 

Julian laughed quietly, tugging Charles close and kissing him deeply, a cold hand cupping the man's cheek. “You are much too kind, my love.” Julian carded his fingers through Gears’ hair, tugging the man back in for another kiss. 

They were both, once again, too distracted to notice the green gaze that was trained on them from the shadows. Kondraki sat and waited, rapier drawn, for the damned poet to return to the house and leave his Ice monger outside, alone, and vulnerable. Kondraki grimaced and sighed quietly, regretting what he was about to do.

Was it truly necessary to end the ice mongers life? They loved each other so dearly-- Kondraki soon tossed the very idea of betraying the priest out of his head. If the Lord required work to be done-- If Father Clef required work to be done, then he would complete it without fuss, and without hesitation. 

Ah, finally! The poet returned inside and the ice peddler began to clean his pallets. Kondraki slowly walked out from behind the crates, the rapier held low. Kondraki felt his regret grow and grow as he stopped behind the Ice monger, the man turning and facing him, flashing a soft smile. “Can I help you, sir?” Julian asked kindly, and Kondraki felt his emerald gaze narrow at the man. 

“I hope god has mercy on your soul.” Kondraki muttered, before bringing the sword up, about to swing it down over Julians head-- Julian let out a shout, and before Kondraki could swing fully, Charles was there intercepting the sword with his own blade. 

Julian got to his feet and shakily moved away, arms wrapped around himself protectively. “How dare you try to hurt my love!” Gears spoke angrily, and pushed Kondraki backwards with his blade. Kondraki lunged at the man and Charles dodged, his blade slicing into Kondraki’s side. Kondraki grunted and swung again, the blade catching across Charles’ face, slicing open a wound on the man’s cheek.

Julian covered his mouth and gasped softly, his worried gaze flicking between the two bloodied men. He wasn't scared for his own safety as much as he was fretful of his lover getting hurt. “Charles!! Look out!!” Julian screamed as Kondraki cut through his side, tearing the skin and clothes right open. Charles grimaced before jumping back in, eventually slamming his blade though Kondraki’s chest entirely. 

Kondraki cried out, collapsing to his knees, hands clutching feebly at the blade lodged inside of his gut. Blood dripped from the corner of the man's mouth as he looked up at the poet, a sad gleam in his eye. “Forgive me, brother. It was… The priest... “ Kondraki chuckled, palms cut thoroughly and spilling more blood out onto the cobblestone of the square. 

Charles looked down at the man, nodding. “I forgive you, sir. I hope god takes mercy, for you have been lied to.” Charles removed the sword, causing more blood to spread on the cobblestone. 

Kondraki died with a silent sigh, Emerald eyes glazed over. “Is he…” Julian padded over to Charles tenderly, looking down at the man. Charles nodded solemnly, kneeling down and closing Kondraki’s eyes with his hand. 

“He has died without knowing love. Poor man. He was being controlled by that priest, of course he was…” Charles looked up to Julian, sorrow filling his steely gaze. “My love, I am sorry for leaving so soon. This would not have happened--” Charles was cut off by a cool finger pressing over his lips, and a soft kiss placed to his forehead. 

“Thank you for protecting me, my love. Let us return him to the church, from whence he came, and we then shall bury his rosary.” Julian murmured, and Charles found himself looking down to the bloodied man, nodding gently in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know (you probably did) that no one actually spoke ‘olde English’? Yeah! People just spoke weird versions of what they thought was English! All the old playwrights of this time doubled as poets and normal writers, so they all developed the gothic style of English that we know today! So basically, finding out how old English people used to speak in real life is difficult ( aka please forgive me for any and all mistakes )


	3. Konnie Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clef finds Kondraki dead and lying on the steps of the church. What does the demon priest do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter incorporates a lot of child/underage non-con and rape. It's referenced, but still, please don't read if it triggers you. Also: this chapter includes lots of violence and blood, so, just a warning. Stay safe <3

To say that Alto Clef was outraged would be an understatement. The priest stood there, on the threshold of his holy sanctuary, his emissary lying dead on the steps in front of him. The mere scent of Kondraki’s blood had Clef trembling in anger. He did not particularly care that Benjamin had gotten himself killed, that fact could easily be fixed with a wave of his hand. Clef was upset that his emissary had failed him. And given his identity away, at that.

Clef glowered at the pitiful excuse of an emissary in front of him before grabbing the back of the man’s bloodied shirt, dragging the corpse inside. “You failed me, Konnie dearest.” Clef hummed in a sing-song tone, his hands slowly warping into claws, soft cartilage rotting as scales took over the remaining space. Thick, leathery wings shot out of Clef’s back, tearing through the robes as if they were made of cobwebs. 

“You have failed me, Konnie dear, and you will pay for your mistakes.” Clef smiled, and with a wave of his demonic hand, Kondraki was coughing up blood, green eyes fluttering open as the man’s wounds slowly knitted themselves shut. Kondraki could only cough more as Clef threw him to the ground, the telltale crunch of ribs being broken resounding through the empty church.

Kondraki moaned in pain as the aforementioned bones re-set, punctured lungs emptying themselves of blood, the said liquid dripping out of Kondraki’s nose and mouth. 

“You little bitch.” Clef snarled, and Kondraki cried out as Clef slammed his clawed foot onto his chest, cracking the healing ribs and pushing them right back into tender lungs. Kondraki felt himself slowly drowning, his lips turning blue. But then the now-familiar tingling sensation of healing magic ran through him once more, working on his ribs and lungs with vigor. Kondraki could only cough up more blood, pale from the loss of the precious liquid.

“You told them, Konnie dearest. You broke your promise to me. Our secret little vow we made.” Clef smiled, removing his foot from Kondraki’s chest. Alto watched in disgust as tears trailed down Kondraki’s cheeks, wetting the dried blood there and turning the trails pink with residue. 

“You broke our little deal, and now I get to punish you back into submission. It is, really, my favorite thing to do.” Clef hummed, sarcasm dripping from every single word he spoke. Benjamin shuddered, his coughing fit subsiding, only to be triggered again by Clef kicking him sharply in the side, ribs snapping once more.

Clef then went for his legs, stomping them easily beneath his feet. Between his screams of pain, Kondraki realized that he deserved this. The pain he was receiving… it was because he had sinned. Fallen prey to a devil in disguise— and carried out a devilish act that had not been required of him in the slightest.

Kondraki wept until he could no longer weep, throat so sore from screaming and crying out in agony. Hours had gone by, with Clef doing nothing but breaking him. Hurting him, destroying him, before healing him. The sick little game the devil always loved to play. It was nothing new, but with how Clef could easily wipe his memory… kondraki supposed it made sense that he would never grow used to it. 

“My little rose.” Clef cooed, taking the beaten up Kondraki into his arms as he kneeled on the floor. “You are much more useful as a stress toy, my dear. Crying so prettily like that, It’s a wonder anyone can resist wanting to hurt you.” Clef murmured into Kondraki’s ear, and Kondraki felt himself relax into the demon's grasp.

Kondraki knew he was being used. He knew that this was the calm before the real storm hit with a vengeance. He knew damn well that this was all a ploy to get Kondraki back on his side… but damnit, kondraki was desperate. He needed comfort, he had always needed comfort. He was weak. And with Clef… Kondraki reasoned that there were two sides to every coin. Clef just… had a darker side than most. That is all. Men get angry. It’s normal. 

Kondraki whimpered, his legs still broken, the healing magic not yet administered. He felt cold hands trace his bare torso and he shuddered, bleary gaze searching for Clef in his line of sight. “fa-...fath-... -ther…” Kondraki choked out the words, and Clef simply tugged him in closer, lips pressed to the soft skin of Kondraki’s neck.

“See how caring I can be, my rose? You angered me. But see how nicely I would treat you, if only you listened?” Clef murmured, and Kondraki felt a stab of guilt in his gut. Kondraki whimpered and tried to stammer out an apology, but cold lips caught his own before he could speak any more.

The kiss was cold and harsh, bruising and biting into Kondraki’s lips, drawing much more blood than needed. Lips were mangled by teeth, and kondraki whimpered as Clef pulled back, taking a good bite of flesh with him. His lower lip was missing, dangling from Clef’s own. Kondraki was about to panic before the tingling sensation of magic ran through him, and he felt his lower lip slowly knit back together, flesh melding easily under the magic’s influence.

Clef claimed his lips once more after spitting out the severed one, the kiss far from comforting. But Kondraki liked it all the same. Kondraki let himself become lost in the feeling, emerald eyes slipping shut underneath the demon’s administrations. Clef pulled away after a few minutes, heterochromatic eyes meeting his own. 

“Konnie, dear.” Clef hummed, and Kondraki craved nothing more than he craved Clef’s approval in that moment. He wanted to be enough. He wanted to be good enough for Clef to devour whole. Kondraki knew that this was probably the demons influence on his thoughts, but with Clef looking at him tenderly, and holding him like he was a doll, Benjamin could not bring himself to care in the slightest. 

“Konnie, dear, I love you. But I need you to be good, and listen to me. Never disobey me, Konnie dear. You will listen when I command you. Understood?” 

Kondraki had never nodded so hard in his life before this moment. Clef chuckled, and the sound made shivers run up Kondraki’s spine. 

“Father…” kondraki began, voice rough and scratchy, hurting his throat when he spoke. 

“Hush, my sweet little Konnie. There is no need for idle chatter.” Clef murmured sweetly, fangs brushing over the column of Kondraki’s throat. 

Kondraki let out a silent scream as Clef’s fangs pierced the skin, a burning pain shooting through his body. He had never known a pain greater than this. But as he felt the demon feed on his blood, swallowing the liquid noisily, he couldn't help but feel nothing more than admiration for the demon. His ruler. His master. His father.

His god.

———

_“Please!” Kondraki cried, desperately clinging onto the demon’s leg. The demon chuckled, kicking aside the pitiful mortal._

__

_“What do you want of me, child.” The demon spat, and the boy flinched. He could only be around the age of 12 or 13, Clef decided, eyeing the baby fat still adorning the mortal’s cheeks._

____

_“I want… company…” Benjamin murmured softly, rubbing the tears from his green eyes. “They… the town, they… they killed my butterflies… they were my only friends, and…” Benjamin broke down into tears, crying mutedly into his hands. The demon laughed, steely voice warping as he spoke._

_____ _

_“You want me to keep you company, dear boy? Do you really pledge your soul to me, dear boy? You pledge that no matter how much I break you, how much I tarnish you, you will never run away from our pact?” The demon taunted the boy, causing his tears to fall much faster._

______ _ _

_“Please! I promise! I promise everything! Just please… make the pain go away…” Benjamin murmured softly between sobs, and the demon simply laughed._

_______ _ _ _

_The demon took the boy, then, in that broken down church, spurred on by the crying and whimpers of the meek mortal in front of him. He took the young boy’s innocence, learning only of his name. A pact was then made in blood, derived from stolen innocence and loss, grief and torture._

________ _ _ _ _

_Kondraki lay there, naked and alone in the broken down church, before soft footsteps approached him. Kondraki’s green eyes were glazed over in tears and grief, his small neck covered in bites and teeth marks, hips and thighs bruised black and blue. Blood spilled from numerous places on the boy, where the demon had been reckless._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_“Dear boy,” the man spoke softly. “I am not going to harm you. What has happened?” The kind man spoke, and Kondraki felt tears drip down his cheeks._

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Ah, I see. A demon, then. You have made a pact. You must keep it hidden. I am a priest. I will help you. But… you must help me in return.” The priest smiled, and Kondraki felt a sense of comfort._

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Come, now.” The priest picked Kondraki up into his arms, covering the teen boy up with his cloak. “I will not ask much of you. Only that you follow my word whenever I will it. If I tell you to complete a task you will.” Kondraki could only nod, too young and hurt to notice the priest's eyes._

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_The demon had looked into his eyes as he had wrecked him, a blue and green hue taking over the irises of the demon. The priest’s gaze glinted with a flash of green and blue, before melding into a gentle turquoise. Kondraki had taken comfort in that gaze of his priests._

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Kondraki… had always loved his priest. The one who had saved him from the demon’s pact. The one… who was supposed to be killing him and hurting him._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Kondraki had always felt so at peace whenever his priest, Father clef, would touch him. Gently holding him and kissing him, raising him up and guiding him out of the nest._

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Clef had always taken joy in pushing Kondraki out of the nest._

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_But kondraki, no matter how hard he tried… simply couldn't fly._

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

———

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Kondraki awoke slowly, the feeling of sharp fangs tugging on his skin rousing him from the slumber he had fallen into. Benjamin felt a brief sense of fear, before a cloyingly sweet smell overcame his senses, dulling everything in his line of sight to a pink haze.

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Don’t fight it, Konnie dearest.” A tender voice whispered from above Kondraki, and he found himself slowly weakening, limbs growing weary as if he had moved them. He hadn't. Kondraki whimpered and shook his head, green eyes catching a turquoise gaze as he trembled. 

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You are always more pliant and sweet after you forget. Don’t you want to forget everything, Konnie? Doesn't that sound so nice?” Kondraki found himself nodding in agreement, relaxing against the strong arms that held him. 

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Clef soon placed Kondraki down on the altar that stood at the head of the church, before running his fingers through Kondraki’s hair. This would not be the first time that he had wiped Kondraki’s memory. But… He couldn't have his precious emissary thinking that he was a demon, now, could he? Clef worked his magic slowly through Kondraki’s system, embracing the man’s mind and wiping away all that he had seen and done. 

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

His precious emissary. His only follower. Clef let out a deep chuckle at the thoughts, shaking his head, before stepping away from the altar. Blood dripped from Kondraki’s ears and nose, staining the pure white marble of the altar. Clef did not care enough to clean it up. 

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Soon, Konnie dearest, I will have you in my clutches once again. So eager and quick to please. Ah, such a nice tool you are… Believe me, Konnie dearest. You will not fail me again.” 

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Clef put out all of the candles in the room with a flick of his wrist, smoke clouding the now darkened area of the church, before treading outside and into the night, horns carefully hidden under braided blond locks.

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter gets pretty steamy, so please exercise caution when reading. This chapter isnt too big on plot, and the next chapter will have a reiteration of this one, without the sexual content. Please read at your own risk!
> 
> Julian and Charles finally cave and spend the night together-- but what happens the morning after?

—  
_Oh bluebird, sweet and pure,  
Let thy song ring out,  
Towards the square and over the town,  
Swirling rings of swirling sound;  
Traveling out yonder mountains and springs,  
Bright and blue and pure it rings,  
Hear it tinkling prettily,  
Like Fairy jewels and Cardinal wings._

 _Oh sweet nightingale, sing thy song;  
Let it ring over the mountains, over the meadows and glens;  
Let the sound caress the bitter longing of my heart,  
Stoking the fire of passion and yearning,  
Let the song be my muse, my passion—  
Tempting me to take the innocence from the sound,  
And turn it into carnal sin. _  
—

_scritch._

_scritch, scritch._

_scratch._

The sounds of a quill tenderly meeting parchment nudged Julian from his deep slumber, gently caressing him to consciousness. The man shifted in the comfortable blankets and pillows, silently noting his obvious lack of clothing. Well, that was new, but not quite surprising. A lazy smile came to Julian's lips, his nose twitching like a contented rabbits’ would.

The writing noises ceased as Julian continued to move, a soft groan escaping his lips as he nuzzled into the blankets further, his bright blue eyes fluttering open and batting away the few remnants of sleep that stubbornly remained in his body. Julian then sat up, blue hair in a mess, blanket tucked against his chest, and dark red bites adorning his neck and shoulders.

Charles couldn't help but hum approvingly at the sight, standing from his spot at his desk and padding over to the bed, sitting down next to his lover and tenderly catching the ice peddlers lips in a kiss. Julian responded eagerly, arms wrapped around Charles’ neck, dragging the man down closer. 

The previous night had started as their secret meetings usually did. A soft embrace, long bits of poetry and prose being exchanged, shared kisses and touches, suggestive tones and nothings murmured between parted lips— but the tension had finally grown between the two, and they caved into the primal urge to kiss, and touch, and claim. Charles had, more or less, shoved Julian into his abode and loved him until the only words Julian could utter were curses and Charles’ name. 

And now here they were, hands wandering and exploring. Julian’s lips formed into a pout when he realized that Charles was fully dressed, his hands toying at the collar of the dress shirt Charles was wearing, before tugging at the ruffles and demanding, in the cutest way possible, that Charles make love to him once more; before their time together came to an end.

And there was simply no way that Charles could deny such a splendid request. 

Charles’ clothes were quickly lost in the heat of the moment, soft sighs soon shared between bruised lips, blankets tossed off the bed and pillows knocked aside in their sensual fervor, fresh marks and bites were soon created, overlapping older ones--

And Julian loved every damned second of it, Clutching onto his lover, his poet, and kissing him; drinking him in and basking in the warm feelings of love and lust currently swirling in his chest. Julian leaned back against the blankets below him, pressing his head back and baring his neck, giving Charles more room to work his tongue and teeth against the abused flesh. 

Charles tenderly placed his hands over the bruises on Julian’s hips, leaning down and kissing the soft skin, before dragging his tongue across the dark purple marks. 

“Does it hurt?” Charles murmured against the markings, nipping the soft skin of Julian’s inner thigh teasingly. 

Julian shuddered, a shaky whine escaping his lips at the question itself. It hurt-- but it was a good hurt-- the kind that Julian really didn't mind at all. The love bites ached and Julian’s thighs were already trembling, and Charles didn't even need a verbal answer to understand the boy’s response. 

“Such a beautiful creature… “ Charles tugged Julian into a tight embrace, mouthing at the boys neck and working his way up, eventually meeting Julian’s lips in a heated kiss. Well, somewhat heated-- Julian’s lips suddenly felt ice cold. 

Charles pulled back, that same blank expression plastered on his face as he looked down at Julian in sheer confusion. 

“...Charles?” Julian placed a hand on Charles’ cheek, before ripping it away in surprise, letting out a soft cry of pain. “You’re burning up! Charles, we must get you to the infirmary--” Julian quickly sat up, throwing on Charles’ cloak that had been left on the floor. 

“No, no-- Bluebird, wait--” Charles was cut off by his lover placing a freezing hand over his lips.  
“Hush, poet. We are going, and that is final.” Julian gave a soft smile, one that made Charles’ heart melt, before Charles came back to his senses. 

“Bluebird. Come here.” Charles ordered, his voice thick with worry. Julian came almost immediately to the man’s side, brimming with nervous energy. 

Charles grabbed a basin of water from the desk next to the bed, placing it in his lap. Then, he tenderly took hold of Julian’s hand, slipping it into the warm water. Charles then removed his lover's hand, and watched in wonder at how frost formed on the pale skin. 

“Oh sweet lord above…” Julian trembled in Charles’ burning grasp, gazing at his now frost-covered skin. Charles merely nodded, struck speechless for the first time in his entire life. 

Julian placed his hand back into the water, watching how the ice spread thinly across the surface of it, soon removing his hand and stifling a sob. 

How he had turned into a monster overnight, he had no clue. All Julian knew is that Charles had not said a word, and that he was probably about to be burned at the stake in the center of town, even though people hadn't burned witches in years. 

“Julian.” Charles rasped, looking up at his lover. His stars and sky, his muse-- his ice peddler-- was now as cold as the very ice he sold. Charles let the bowl of water fall to the floor, porcelain shattering and water splashing across the tile. 

“Julian-- you-- the ice--” Charles stammered, dropping his lovers wrist as he stood to face the man. “Did you know..?” Charles asked quietly, and Julian felt as though his heart was going to break in half. 

“No! I didn't-- Charles you have to believe me, I know nothing about this! Oh, Charles, please don't leave me, I am so sorry! I’m ashamed of it-- We need to get it to stop-- what if people find out? Oh, charles--” 

Julian was cut off by a soft pair of scalding hot lips. 

“My precious bluebird… I never thought that winter was inherently beautiful, but now that I have seen frost form a breathtaking painting on your porcelain skin, I doubt that I will ever think of any season more beautiful. It will be hard, picturing anything except for the frost that bloomed on your skin when winter comes around, sending snow to the ground and dusting everything in white.” Charles finished his sentiment with a kiss to Julian's nose.

Julian almost sobbed with relief, letting himself be dragged into another crushing embrace, his face pressed against Charles’ chest. 

“I love you, Charles. Much, much more than you could ever comprehend.” Julian pulled away to smile up at Charles, his cold hands cupping charles’ face, before he dragged the man down for a freezing kiss. 

“My dearest bluebird, I will always be by your side. I will never leave you, no matter the situation or consequence. I pledged my undying love to you long ago, my darling bluebird. I love none but you. I will take it upon myself to understand how deeply you love me, and to return not only that exact amount, but even more love than you had graced me with.” Charles spoke softly, his lips leaving a burning trail down Julian’s neck. 

“My, dear poet, such sweet words to say as you’re desecrating my ‘porcelain skin’” Julian teased, but it was all for play. He appreciated his dear poets words, even more so than the loving actions that the man was currently busying himself with.

“Ah! Excuse me, where do you think you’re biting!”

Charles merely hummed in response, hands placed on Julian’s hips.

“Excuse me! Charles-- Charles! This is not the time for this nonsense! Unhand me!”

Charles hummed again, fingers dancing along Julian’s skin until he found the perfect spot--

Julian fell back onto the bed in a fit of giggling laughter, and Charles fell on top of him, continuing his actions with more fervor than before.

Julian yelled and kicked but to no avail-- he had been bested in combat by his lover. Tickle combat, that is.

“Charles! I just found out-- t-that-- that I can turn water into-- into ice!! This is not-- oh!!” 

Julian laughed some more, breathlessly trying to get Charles to stop tickling him, all while trying to speak through his gasps. 

Eventually Julian gave up trying to speak, and only then did Charles cease the tickling, though he was still kissing and pawing at Julian’s skin, worshipping every inch of the man. 

Julian leaned back and relaxed into his lovers hands, letting his worries melt away. They could deal with this pressing issue later, after they finished their exploration of just how cold Julian had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god please don't send me to hell for this amen 
> 
> constructive crit is welcome, comments and kudos appreciated as well


	5. disgusting animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alto Clef, still hunting after the local homosexuals, employs some new help from an old acquaintance... at a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual, a huge tag warning: this contains cannibalism and extreme gore, so please don't read if you don't like!! sorry for the late updates by the way, I've been super busy with school. hope to update again soon!!

_A small, lithe body was draped over a broken and mouldy church pew, completely bare apart from a few scraps of scratchy cloth that stubbornly remain attached. Footsteps resounded clearly in the air as a tall man approached, dressed in the garb of a preacher. The metal crucifix on his necklace glimmered as the holy man grimaced in what appeared to be pain._

_“Again with this, dear? Have we not been through this lesson? You must get up after the devil pushes you down.”_

_The man frowned and stepped closer, his footsteps turning into the sounds of metal clashing, of steel shattering, of pained screaming and sobbing. The boy merely flinched. He continued to lay still, his eyes unseeing and hazed over in some kind of trance. Had he done something bad? Something... evil? He did not know. He did not care._

_“Come now, child, stand before me. Stand before me and repent.”_

_The preacher smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides, blond bangs covering a mark on his forehead. Was it a scar…? A birthmark…? The boy shuddered as the command reached him, his fingers twitching as his body was bent to the mans will. Suddenly a racking cough shook his lithe frame, sending rivulets of blood splattering against the pale, naked chest and down his chin._

_The boy shuddered and heaved, throwing up the blood he had previously been coughing. The small body contorted, bones crunching and joints popping. The boy fell onto his side before the preacher, tears streaming from those unseeing eyes. The boy let out a soft whimper, blood pouring out from his ears and nose and mouth— would he even have any left…?_

_The pastor stood and watched as the boy before him coughed wetly once more, a look of sick enjoyment contorting his face._

_“Tell me, boy. How does it feel? How does it feel, dying like that?”_

_The pastor went down on one knee, careful not to soil himself with the child's blood._

_“Well? No answer?”_

_The pastor took the small chin into his hand, tilting the delicate head up to meet his gaze._

_“Then, I’ll just have to kill you harder.”_

_The boys pretty neck was snapped with a sickening crunch._

_Then there was silence._

_——————_

_Bite._

_Gnaw._

_Tear._

_Chew._

_Swallow. ___

__Jack Bright listed the five steps of cannibalism off in his head as he gnawed through a surprisingly hearty bone, distracting himself from the sickening crunch of the leg currently lodged in his maw._ _

__His hobby had grown an incredible amount over the years, and eventually led him to murder and decite. Not that Jack minded any. The man kept on crunching on bone and stringy sinew, not at all minding the blood dripping from his chin._ _

__“You are a disgusting animal, Jack Bright.”_ _

__Clef’s voice rang out through the halls of the church, and Jack stopped his crunching for a few seconds, looking back at the demon standing in the threshold of the church. Jack responded only in a bloody smile, displaying damaged teeth and half chewed muscle. Clef winced, Jack smiled, and at that moment, Kondraki screamed._ _

__Jack quickly silenced the man by smacking him over the head with a rosary, a grim expression on his face. Kondraki’s leg was the one currently being chewed on, and Bright figured that it was only natural to miss your limb once it had been ripped off._ _

__“Your servant is much too volatile.” Bright grumbled, still crunching away on Benjamin’s leg._ _

__“Your diet is much too harsh for a sweet boy like him…” Alto sighed, holding out his hand, palm up, before flexing the limb roughly. A black dagger appeared, hovering above his smooth palm, shrouded in a hazy red light. Clef’s eyes glowed their separate hues, and Bright took pause from his feast to stare._ _

__“....much too harsh, indeed.”_ _

__With a flick of his wrist, Clef sent the dagger flying, the blade lodging itself inside of Kondraki’s neck. Blood poured out of the wound and gathered on the floor, leaking into the cracks of the marble tiles. Bright smiled gruesomely, bending down and, like a cat, started to lap up the blood as if it were milk._ _

__Clef grimaced, walking forward, adjusting his white robes, as to not stain them crimson. “You truly disgust me. Horrifying creature. Barely human anymore, as it is.” Clef spat, breezing past Jack as the man continued his plight, the entirety of his lower face stained red and dripping with blood._ _

__Kondraki’s body convulsed, a final dying shudder before his eyes glazed over with the sweet relief of death. Jack frowned._ _

__“It’s not fun if they’re not alive, Clef.” Jack grumbled, looking up at the demon ruefully._ _

__“It’s not fun to be cast down to the pits of hell prematurely, Bright.” Clef snarled in response, and Bright merely grinned that bloody grin of his. “And besides, as much as I detest my mercenary, there is only so much pain I can erase from his memory. You chewing off his leg while he was still conscious was reward enough for your intel, I think.”_ _

__Jack merely hummed in response, licking his fingers clean before shoving them into the soft skin of Benjamin’s abdomen, splitting the skin and delving into the inside of the man's body. The liver was Jack’s favorite part— unlike the brain, it was chewy, and it had no stringy veins or needless nerves to hinder his feast._ _

__Jack had started this macabre hobby a few years prior, when a previous lover had suckled on an injured finger of his. This sparked a morbid curiosity in Jack, eventually driving him to murder his lover and drink their blood. Jack had become hooked, after that, killing hundreds for his meals, and even more for the sheer enjoyment of it._ _

__Jack Bright, however, felt no remorse for his actions, and thus found himself in the company of a demon, and his new snack for the evening._ _

__Clef had dragged Bright out of the town’s prison the previous night, before the man could face his crimes in the town square. Jack, personally, had held no issue with being hanged for his countless sins. He had simply said, ‘yes, that is what I deserve, so kill me’; and relaxed in his cell. Before, of course, an angry demon, horns and all, ravaged the prison and dragged him to a bedraggled church, where he currently remained._ _

__“have you had your fill quite yet, devil-spawn?” Alto glowered at Bright, clawed hands held disarmingly at his sides._ _

__“devil-spawn? isn't that your role, dear demon?” Bright teased, tearing out his prize, Kondraki’s liver, and tearing it apart with his teeth. liquid sprayed from the organ, and Bright almost moaned in ecstasy._ _

__Clef, once again, turned away, allowing the mentally skewed man his privacy with his mercenary’s corpse. “It is my role, dearheart, but I digress. Allow me to explain why I have brought you here. There is a…. small inconvenience, that I need to settle. However, I do not wish to… dirty… my hands. You will take care of the matter for me, and I will allow you to have your way with the corpses of said… inconvenience.”_ _

__Jack listened intently, sitting cross-legged, still soaked in blood from head to toe. “Sounds like a done deal to me, buttercup.” Jack grinned and stood from his spot, stretching his arms up over his head. Red light surrounded him, and Jack balked, eyes growing wide as fancy clothes wrapped themselves around his body. Robes, he dimly realized._ _

__When the red light faded, Bright relaxed, glancing over slyly to the demon._ _

__“And if I… fail, this mission?” Bright turned, his footsteps splashing into the puddles of blood on the floor. Bright moved closer, approaching the demon, until he was chest to chest with the monster._ _

__“You will not fail me, Jack Bright.”_ _

__Clef scowled down at the skewed human in front of him, bringing up a clawed hand to cup his cheek._ _

__“You will destroy my enemies and bathe in their blood, but I forbid you from failing me.”_ _

__With the order, Clef’s hand burned against Bright’s skin, and the human flinched beneath the heated touch. A deep red pentagram gleamed against Bright’s forehead, slightly hidden by rowdy dirty blond hair._ _

__“whatever you say, buttercup. whatever you say.”_ _


	6. a gentle touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the local homos heave their own mental breakdowns, please enjoy

_“Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance merely upon myself. Vexed I am of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors...” ( i. ii. 39-49 )  
( William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar )_

The days passed by without a hitch, for most. Spring turned into early summer, which soon morphed into late summer, bringing along with it the scorching summer heats. 

Julian was not faring well, in this heat. 

Julian was not faring well at all.

During the past months, every member of his family had mysteriously vanished. His mother, his father, his sisters… Julian had watched all of them vanish, not knowing what to do. The bedraggled man was currently curled up on top of Charles’ bed, dressed in naught but a linen sheet draped over his shapely form. 

“Charles….” Julian's voice had gone rough from crying. 

Charles took note of this, currently perched upon the windowsill, gazing out into the starry night sky. He had been lost in thought for hours, until, of course, his beloved spoke his name. 

“Yes, dear Julian?” Charles left his ivy-covered perch, crossing the cold stone floors to where his bed was situated, right against the wall. 

“Please do come to bed, Charles…. It is much too late for thought. Rest thy head upon my heart.” Julian sat up, the linen falling down to his lap, leaving his pale chest exposed. 

Charles gave a soft hum in response, sitting on the mattress and taking a cold hand into his own, leaving soft kisses along the palms. 

“Not quite yet, darling bluebird. Thou must keep patience, dear. Good things come to all who wait. A rose cannot bloom without the sun, and a poet cannot write without emotion and thought.” 

Julian seemed mollified by this answer, turning back his covers and laying back down. Charles took a few quiet moments to scrape the frozen tears off of Julian’s cheeks with his thumb.   
“Oh, dearest bluebird… The sky would surely be duller without your lovely wings and brilliant song alighting in the morn. Thus, I shall protect you, and raise all arms to those who seek to harm you. They have caused you much pain… Wrenching your heart in excruciating agony… Fear not, darling bluebird. They will never hurt you again. I love you, dear ice peddler. Pray tell be with me, forevermore.” 

Gears stood from the mattress and the sleeping form of his lover, padding over to his workbench. Thus: he writes. 

_“The war has been declared,  
Your ally been ensnared.  
It is now or it is never.  
Break the code or die forever._

_Time is running out  
Running out  
Running out._

_To the warrior give my blade.  
By his hand your fate is made.  
But do not forget the ticking  
Or the clicking, clicking, clicking.  
While a rat's tongue may be flicking,  
With its feet it does the tricking.  
For the paw and not the jaw  
Makes the Code of Claw.”_

Charles does not know what to make of his piece. He squints at it, quill stiling in his hand. He decides to write another, perhaps… the next writing would be better. 

_“Warmblood now a bloodborne death  
Will rob your body of its breath,  
Mark your skin, and seal your fate.  
The Underland becomes a plate._

_Turn and turn and turn again.  
You see the what but not the when.  
Remedy and wrong entwine,  
And so they form a single vine._

_Bring the warrior from above  
If yet his heart is swayed by love.  
Bring the princess or despair,  
No crawlers care without her there._

_Turn and turn and turn again.  
You see the what but not the when.  
Remedy and wrong entwine,  
And so they form a single vine._

_Those whose blood runs red and hot  
Must join to seek the healing spot.  
In the cradle find the cure  
For that which makes the blood impure._

_Turn and turn and turn again.  
You see the what but not the when.  
Remedy and wrong entwine,  
And so they form a single vine.”_

Charles scraps that as well, leaning back in his chair. Ink drips from his quill. Fantasy truly was not his forte. But, perhaps… 

Charles looked over at his sleeping lover. 

_“Flesh and ice now one combined,  
The hunted seek, the hunters hide,  
Freezing cold and warm as ice,  
A heart that beats for naught but strife;_

_Lead the warrior to the sea,  
Let his hands fall upon thee,  
Allow his freezing heart to warm,  
Against the skin of winter reborne.”_

Gears huffed in irritation, looking over when he heard a soft chuckle. 

“So much for ‘darkness breeds emotion’, dear Charles. Going to come to bed now?”

Gears decided that it was best to listen to his beloved.   
Charles undressed and laid in the bed, Julian wrapping himself around Gears gently. The sheet of linen was cool to the touch, and Charles repressed a shiver. 

“I’m quite useful for summer nights, don’t you think..?” Julian murmured, his forehead coming to rest against charles’ gently. 

“You’re not useful. I would put it… as a joy to be around.” Charles responded, before snuffing out the candle, the room going dark. A warm breeze fluttered in from the window. 

Julian’s touch lingered against Charles’ skin, his blue eyes filled with unshed tears. Charles felt his heart break into pieces at the sorrowful appearance. 

“My beloved….” 

Julian hushed him with a kiss, his chilled hands coming up to cup charles’ cheeks. Gears kissed back, warm grip tugging his ice peddler further into his embrace. 

“Julian….” 

Julian kept on kissing Charles around his mouth, moving down to his throat, teeth teasingly scraping the sensitive skin there. 

“Julian, this is--”

Gears was cut off by a kiss placed upon his lips, but promptly pulled away, catching Julian’s wrists in an iron grip.

“Julian. No more.”

Julian was crying, now; pale tears that seemed to glitter in the moonlight. His baby blue eyes drooped in exhaustion, and Gears felt a sting of regret for being so forceful. 

“Julian, this is not healthy… you shouldn't be repressing your emotions by doing… this.” 

“You don't want me. That’s it, isn't it.” Julian sat up, his cheeks flushing blue, tears leaving streaming tracks on his cheeks. 

“You do not want me! After all this time--??”

Gears could not have gotten a word in edgewise. His ice peddler had left the bed, wrapped in a linen sheet, before seating himself at the windowsill. 

Gears had never felt more cold. 

“Julian, that is not true, and you know it. I have always wanted you, bluebird, and I will always want you. You are my thornless rose, my dear; prettier than any specimen in the Queens finest gardens. Your singing makes my heart leap in joy, every gaze you send me has me reeling. I just do not wish to see you sad anymore. I would like to make you happy. But… that also entails taking care of you. And you cannot keep hiding your true emotions by indulging in me.” 

Iceberg sniffled, glancing over to Charles. 

“...truly?” 

Gears stood from the mattress, padding over to the windowsill, wrapping his arms around his beloved. 

“Yes. truly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so icebergs parents died off screen. sad, right??? right????? well dw im going to have a special chapter ready just for you guys, describing in great detail just how they died, so dont worry. 
> 
> next chapter should be up in a few days ( i hope )
> 
> the first two excerpts ( poems ) used in this are from Gregor the Overlander by Suzanne Collins! the last poem I made myself.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update this regularly but nothing is certain! criticism is welcomed with open arms and a kiss!


End file.
